


If you play with fire...

by kanronotatsu



Series: The life of a polecat [7]
Category: Mad Max Series (Movies)
Genre: Angry Sex, F/M, Rough Body Play, Smut
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-19
Updated: 2015-10-19
Packaged: 2018-04-27 02:44:16
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 5,223
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5030629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/kanronotatsu/pseuds/kanronotatsu
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Fang and Spots have always been enemies, but there's more to their relationship than what meets the eye.</p><p>(This is the second smut I've ever written, I hope you'll like it.)</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

Their relationship was… complicated, to say the least. At the most basic level they hated each other’s guts. Both were excellent shooters, their aim superior to anyone else’s. And they were competing non-stop because of it. Even if they only met on special occasions, one of them being a polecat and the other a lancer. They had completely different occupations, but that didn’t stop them from fighting over who’s the chromest. All the fucking time. Ever since they were smaller, only a kit and a pup. The young lancer-in-training mocked the young polecat-in-training for being… anything at all: too short, too light, too quick, too slow, too messy, too clean, etc, etc. And the kit just couldn’t take it. They had to be separated sometimes when things got to the point of them just wrestling their anger out, rolling around on the ground in a messy ball of intertwined limbs.

Then they grew up and the fights became more serious. They were punished several times for hurting each other, once this one had a broken nose, then that one got one eye swollen. Their encounters were marked by bruises, cracked ribs, bleeding gashes, and black eyes. Patches, the current healer, had his hands full with them, as week after week one of them would surely turn up at his door.

This petty feud between polecat and lancer came to a head one afternoon. They met somewhere behind the garage, the polecat sharpening her newly acquired pocket knife on a stone and the lancer trying to find a place he could be alone for a few moments. He sometimes had this need of getting away from everyone, but there was scarcely a place in Gastown which wasn’t teeming with people. There was this small room for the supplies behind the garage, but the entrance was barred by many toolboxes from the outside, and everyone seemed to forgot that the room ever existed. The lancer found a way in through a window and he used this room for a secret hideout whenever he felt overwhelmed.

He had just recently started growing lumps. First on his neck, then around the armpit of his throwing arm. It wasn’t exactly painful, but his movements were a bit restrained thanks to the little bundles around his muscles. He had to get used to it, but lately his aim was a bit off, which was a catastrophe for the warboy. He wasn’t mocked because of it, but the shame he felt was enough. He felt mediocre and needed to clear his head, so he went to that room to be alone for a while. He climbed in through the window, jumping down on a pile of old sacks, sighing from relief. Then he heard the rustling and the last voice he wanted to hear at that moment.

“Fang? What the fuck are-”

“Spotty?! How the-”

“I told you not to call me that!”

“How the fuck did you get in here?!”

“Same as you, stupid.”

“Don’t call me stupid, kitten!”

“And don’t call me kitten either!”

It wasn’t even thirty seconds that they’ve spent in each other’s company and they were already shouting. Fang was upset, he really only needed some space and time alone, not this… this obnoxious, infuriating, cheeky little polecat.

“Shut up, midget!”

“You’re the same height, asshole!”

“I’m like twice your size, kitten.”

“And even so you could never beat me.”

“Then who gave you that pretty scar on your neck, lass?”

Spots unwittingly touched the spot Fang was talking about. He actually threw a spear at her once, and it was only by good luck, his off aim, and Spots’ reflexes that she walked away with just a scar, and didn’t lose her head.

“It’s a scar because your aim sucks.” Spots murmured.

Fang went silent, this really wasn’t what he needed right now. Was it too much to ask for a moment of silence?

“Whatever, I’m out of here.”

Spots furrowed her brows. The lancer seemed to be brooding, and if it wasn’t Fang she would even say that he was… sad? But why? And he gave up his position and was willing to walk away from a fight? What could’ve happened? Her heart tightened for a moment, not because she was worried about Fang, not at all. Just…

“Wait!”

Fang turned back to her in surprise. Spots fixed her gaze on the ground.

“I mean, I was going anyway. You can stay.”

A brief silence ensued, during which none of them knew what to say. Then Fang shook himself from his stupor and stepped away from the window.

“Okay.”

Spots walked up to him and was about to jump up and grab the windowsill, but the lancer just couldn’t keep his mouth shut anymore.

“Should I help you reach that, kitten?”

Spots closed her eyes for a moment, trying to unhear what Fang just said. The notion that she couldn’t get up to a measly window a few feet higher than her was downright insulting.

“I bet it would be easy lifting you, shorty.”

Fang would have been lying to say that the blow to his face surprised him, but it certainly was too quick to dodge. A moment later they were wrestling on the floor, rolling around in the dirt, like in the old times. Except Spots had a knife in her hand and with this advantage managed to roll Fang onto his back, straddle his chest and put the knife’s freshly sharpened edge on his throat. That’s when she noticed the tiny lumps. She had seen the kind before and knew that they meant certain death. For a moment she felt pain and grief wash over her. No matter what, Fang was still one of her brothers-in-arms. And he might never be able to die chrome and get to Valhalla with the rest of them if he was sick.

Using the brief hesitation of Spots, Fang grabbed her hand and forced it behind her back, while sitting up and headbutting the girl.

“Ow! The fuck are you doing?!”

Fang was taken aback by the apparent surprise and indignation in Spotty’s voice. _She couldn’t be that surprised, right?_

“Fighting you, stupid. What did you think?”

Spots lifted her head to look into Fang’s eyes. A thin streak of blood trailed down from her forehead into her right eye, where that white line ran through it. Fang always found this deformation of hers fascinating, the shape of the white spot resembled a V, and it crossed her iris, making her eye look like it was struck by lightning.

“I’m not stupid. Let me go.”

“No can do.”

“Fang, I’m gonna gut you if you don’t let me go.”

The lancer smirked and twisted Spots’ arm a bit. She didn’t cry out, but her face contorted into a painful grimace.

“I’d like to see you try, kitten.”

“Shut up, puppy!”

Spots tried to punch him with her free hand, but he was quick to grab that one too. Now they were stuck, Spots was sitting in Fang’s lap, the lancer’s arms wrapped around her, keeping her wrists in a tight lock behind her back. The only option that remained for Spots was to headbutt Fang, otherwise their movements were very limited.

“Can’t we just agree to call this a draw?” she asked, trying to keep her face as far away from Fang’s as possible.

“No. Admit your loss.”

“Never.”

“Alright. Then we’re staying here.”

“What did you come here for, anyway?”

“To be alone.”

“Then why don’t you let me go?”

“I can’t really do that now, can I? Not until you say I’ve won.”

“Then we’re staying here for a while 'cause I won’t say it.”

“You’re a stubborn one, kitten.”

“Look who’s talking.”

“I’m not the one with the bleeding forehead.”

“But you’ll be the one with the bleeding nose if you don’t let me go right now.”

“Sure.”

Spots acted on her threat and made to headbutt Fang. But the smeg lancer was prepared and pulled up his legs suddenly, lifting Spots from just enough that her head found only thin air to hit, while Fang’s teeth collided with her collarbone.

“Fuck. You bit me?!”

“Wasn’t on purpose.”

“You bit me! Smeg.”

“Is this really your biggest problem right now?” Fang asked, incredulous.

Spots started thrashing in his lap, kept trying to hit his face with her shoulders.

“Let me go you fucking smeg shit of a mediocre lancer.”

“What did you call me, kitten?!”

Spots still held her knife in her palm and somehow managed to align its blade so she could stab Fang’s tight.

“Ah, shit!”

The lancer immediately let go of one of her hands, but he was smart enough to hold onto the one holding the knife. He twisted Spots’ wrist until she let go of it, all the while trying to avoid getting his eyes clawed out by the angry polecat. _She really is like a cat_ , he thought.

Spots was struggling with him, surprisingly the warboy was really strong, and getting out of his hold was not an easy thing to do. She tried to headbutt him one more time, but he dodged. Then she planted her palm on his face, pushing it away from her, but he lifted her into the air and turned her onto her back, pinning her hands and body with his own to the ground.

“Why can’t you just admit that you lost, kitten?”

Instead of answering, Spots lifted her head and bit down on Fang’s collarbone. In retrospective, this was a stupid decision, the white paint on the warboy’s skin tasted disgusting. And instead of discouraging him, Fang just ground her harder into the floor.

“Kitten…”

The lancer’s voice was deeper than usual, rumbling in his chest. Spots looked up at him, trying to catch his eyes to see if he was dangerously close to killing her, or was it something else that got to him suddenly. But the warboy wasn’t looking at her and after a long moment he got up and sat back on his heels.

“What the fuck?” Spots whispered and sat up too.

She was starting to get really worried, like _genuinely_ worried about Fang.

“Have you hit your head, smeg?!”

The lancer lifted his gaze to look into her eyes, but instead of the usual burning irritation Spots saw something different in them now.

“Are you alright?”

“Since when do you care?”

“That’s harsh, puppy. We’re one big team, right?”

Fang narrowed his eyes at her, trying to figure out if she was serious or just mocking him.

“That doesn’t mean I won’t skin you alive if you ever call me Spotty again, but…”

Spots tilted her head to one side, gauging Fang’s reaction. The lancer tried hard not to smirk, but the movement in the corner of his mouth betrayed him. Spots reached out to touch the lumps on his neck lightly.

“Is this it?”

Fang caught her hand, but this time his grip wasn’t painful. It was like he himself couldn’t decide whether to hurt Spots or to reach out to her for some support. Despite their differences they were kindred spirits in a way, that was true. They probably understood each other better than anyone else could understand them.

“Ugh… Just… Won’t you go? A minute ago you were all about going.”

Spots nodded, this was true. But that was a minute ago. Now it seemed wrong to just leave Fang alone. She recalled the times Mage had the night fever. She could never leave him alone either. Maybe it was a remnant from her previous life, that she couldn’t stand this kind of suffering. And the thought that she couldn’t do anything to heal either of them was infuriating.

“If that’s what you want.”

“Why would I want you here, of all people?”

“Shut up, puppy, I know you secretly like me.”

“I hate you.”

Spots laughed and patted Fang’s shoulder.

“Sure.”

“And you hate me too.”

Spots mulled this over in her head. Sure, she hated when Fang called her Spotty, she hated that he was just as good as her at almost everything, she hated that he was obnoxious and cocky and arrogant. But she didn’t hate _him_.

“Yeah… I… do.”

Fang looked at her, wondering why she wasn’t so sure about this. They hated each other’s guts, that’s who they were. Always fighting, making the other go crazy, yelling at each other. There was no way that wasn’t hate. But if he thought about it long enough, he realised that what he felt wasn’t just that. Sure, the polecat was annoying, stuck-up, stupid, ridiculously good with her aim, and to top it all, a girl. But Fang didn’t hate _her_. Just everything she did. Or what she didn’t do.

“Just…” Fang couldn’t finish his sentence.

He just couldn’t say it out loud. He didn’t want Spots to go. He wanted to be alone, but if the polecat would remain silent beside him... It would be pretty similar to being alone, right? He closed his eyes, waiting for the girl to make a decision. He didn’t hear her move. But the next moment he felt something warm brush against his skin, and he realised that Spots sat down next to him, leaning her head on his shoulder.

“What are you doing?” he asked, with a bit of panic in his voice. This move was utterly unexpected of the polecat.

“Nothing.”

They sat side by side for a while, Fang frozen rigid, not knowing what to do with this situation, and Spots secretly enjoying the confusion of the warboy. Then Fang gradually softened up, relaxing a bit.

“You know, you really don’t need to fret, pup.”

“Shut up, kit.”

“Everyone knows that your aim sucks.”

Fang turned swiftly towards Spots, wrapping his hand around her throat. He pulled Spots’ face as close to his as possible, looking into her eyes.

“Shut up. _Spotty_.”

He received a kick in the stomach as response. They were back to fighting, it seemed. But Fang thought better of it, and instead of headbutting Spots again, he pulled her closer and crashed their lips together, experimentally. He was very curious about the polecat's reaction, he could offer no other explanation for this move.

Spots forgot to breathe for a moment, she was so stunned. There was a hand on the small of her back and another on the back of her neck, keeping her pressed to Fang’s body. Her muscles turned to mud the moment he kissed her, so she didn’t even fight back. What the fuck was happening? Usually they wanted to kill each other, and strangely enough, this development seemed like a natural extension of that desire. So instead of thinking too much about it, Spots wrapped an arm around Fang’s shoulder and moved so she would be straddling his hips.

Their kiss was not even remotely close to soft or tender, they devoured each other’s mouths like hungry scavengers. The only moment they pulled apart was when they had to breathe. And when they were compelled to move so they could remove their clothes. Both of their bodies were scarred, Fang had his scarifications, while Spots sported that ugly scar from her childhood near her hipbone too. She was a curious sight either way because of the white patches on her light brown skin. Fang stopped for a moment to appreciate the view. He ran his hands up and down on her sides, brushing her nipples.

Fang found that Spots was very sensitive, his every touch elicited a gasp or quiet whimper from her. He very much enjoyed turning the polecat into a hot mess using only his hands. He kept his eyes open, watching the polecat’s face as he moved inside her with a quick upward thrust of his hips. He grabbed a fistful of her short hair, tugging on it, baring her neck so he could bite into the tender skin of her throat.

Spots choked back her moans, trying to keep her voice low. It ran across her mind that she really shouldn’t enjoy herself this much with her arch enemy. But then she lost herself in the sensation of Fang thrusting into her and his hands gripping her hips, leaving almost painful marks on her skin. The lancer even bit her again, now strong enough to draw blood, but Spots didn’t mind. In fact, she would’ve done the same to Fang, if not for the recent memory of the disgusting taste of his white paint. So instead she just clawed at his back and chest, her nails digging into his skin, leaving thin red lines in their wake.

Fang flipped them over so Spots was now lying on her back, her legs wrapped around the warboy's body. The ground was cold and hard, but she barely felt it, she was so lost in pleasure. The warboy felt incredible too, he all but melted into the heat of Spots' lithe body writhing under him. Her moans excited him and he very much enjoyed her reaction when he bit into her flesh from time to time. She was a wild thing, he had always known that, but to feel her restless energy from this close was a new sensation. Fang could've lost himself in her and this thought made him equal parts thrilled and terrified.

They had both fucked with others before, but this felt different. Their moves came instinctively, they could find the perfect rhythm easily, without having to say a word. They worked themselves up to the point where all the world seemed to disappear and only the sensation of skin rubbing against skin and the pleasure remained. Fang pulled both of them up, sitting back on his heels, driving harder and deeper into Spots than before. The polecat hung onto him for dear life, nibbling on Fang’s lips till they became bruised and bloody, desperate to leave her mark on him the way he marked her with his bites. A few more quiet moans and gasps later they both toppled over the edge.

They stayed still for a few moments, trying to catch their breaths. Spots leaned her forehead on Fang’s shoulder while the warboy wrapped his arms around her, as if he wouldn’t, couldn’t let go.

“You’re not that mediocre after all, pup.” Spots breathed into the warboy’s neck before getting off of him.

She picked up her clothes while Fang was still sitting naked and motionless on the floor.

“I still hate you.” he said.

Spots grinned and winked at him, while pulling her shirt over her head.

“I know.”

“No one needs to know about this.”

“About what?”

“Good.”

Spots, now fully clothed, went back to Fang, bent down and placed a light kiss on the top of his bald head.

“See you later, pup.”

“Just fuck off already, will you?!”

The ringing laughter of the polecat still echoed in Fang’s ears when she was long gone.

* * *

 

Lots of secret meetings in the room behind the garage, and one not so secret meeting later Fang lost a finger in a fight with Spots. The polecat asked the lancer nicely enough to stop calling her Spotty, but he didn’t listen. As Spots had just acquired another knife she used the opportunity to test its edge on Fang’s fingers. They had to be separated by Spikes and an imperator who happened to be nearby. Spots got a month-long cleaning duty in the garage as punishment, while Fang’s hand healed, with the exception of his left ring finger which refused to grow back.

Until this incident everyone thought that they might be at peace with each other finally - after all, they were found fast asleep on Fang’s rugs one morning, spooning each other. Then everyone thought that they would remain mortal enemies till the day one of them dies. But neither was true. They never really _stopped_ being enemies and they never really _were_ enemies either. Every time after a fight they would meet again in secret to vent their frustration in a most pleasurable way. They were like fire and water, if mixed together only the steam and heat remained.

 

 


	2. ... you'll get burned

Fang just wanted to be alone. The other warboys were incessantly teasing him about the loss of his finger and he had enough. He beat down everyone who even dared to mention it, but that wasn’t enough to stop them from talking. So he went to the only place he knew no one would find him. Except of course Spots, but she was sure to keep her distance from him. At least that’s what he thought, but apparently the cheeky polecat had the audacity to show her face not ten minutes after Fang climbed into the room through the window.

The lancer didn’t want to believe his eyes when he saw her boots appearing in the window. She surely was out of her mind. It wasn’t even two days ago that she cut his fucking finger off, and now she… Fang felt a powerful mix of anger and indignation and something he couldn’t even describe, but what was very close to an explosion inside his brain.

“GET OUT!”

He didn’t even wait for Spots to reach the floor to yell at her. Not that it had any effect on the polecat, who in the meanwhile landed on the ground in a soft, almost graceful motion.

“Come on, pup-” she didn’t have time to finish the sentence.

Fang was onto her in a second, wrapping his not injured hand around her throat and squeezing hard. Then his eyes wandered on the hunting knife she hung on her waist. If he wasn’t angry enough before, seeing the very knife she used to cut off his finger blew him over the edge. Not paying any attention to Spots, who was suffocating in his hold, the lancer pulled out the knife. He was about to stab the polecat, he really wanted to kill her, to get her stupid obnoxious person out of his life. But for a split second he caught her eyes and saw that she was genuinely scared. She was never scared of him before. So instead of gutting her like he had originally planned, he lifted the knife, keeping eye-contact with Spots, then thrust it into the wall right beside her head. Spots’ eyes widened, but the fear in her eyes was partially replaced by something else, something that Fang knew all too well.

“Fuck off.” he grunted, his voice barely louder than a whisper.

His hand released Spots’ throat and he stepped back, but the polecat reached out for him and caught his wrist.

“I know you’re angry...” she started, her voice raspy. Her next breath was interrupted by a coughing fit.

“Angry?! ANGRY?! You think I’m…”

It required enormous effort from Fang not to bash her face in. The polecat just shrugged.

“I warned you, twice. I said I would-”

“GET THE FUCK OUT OF MY SIGHT!”

Fang tore the knife out of the wall, threatening to slash Spots’ throat, but the cheeky little smeg shit polecat wasn’t scared. She grinned, she _fucking grinned_ instead. Fang often questioned his own sanity when he thought about their strange relationship. They were always, continuously fighting, bickering, mocking each other. And when not, they were fucking their brains out in that very room. Or once on his rugs, but they were careless about that one. Or not, fucking Spots was fucking careless. She came to him that night, she wanted to fuck him so much she risked being discovered, which eventually happened. True, the whole thing was started by Fang, but ever since that first occasion, Spots was the one to come to him. Always. She seemed to be getting off of violence. Every kind, but especially violence towards each other. Their fights fuelled this stormy relationship, that was sure. Spots was wild and ferocious, demanding rather than giving. Not that Fang was unwilling. If Spots would’ve been a wildfire, he would be glad to bathe in her flames, even if these feelings essentially terrified him. He just couldn’t understand why he was completely unable to say no to her. He was drawn to Spots like a moth to the light, and even shit like what happened two days ago couldn’t dampen his desire for her. And she was perfectly aware of this.

“Fang.”

The lancer closed his eyes for a moment. Spots barely ever said his name, but when she did, it was always the start of something very kinky. However much he tried, Fang couldn’t will away his instant erection. Spots noticed that too and her grin just got wider.

“Not this time, Spo-”

The polecat didn’t let him finish, she grabbed him through his pants, and stepped closer, trying to kiss him. Fang pulled his head away, but that was about as much as he was able to do. He placed his hands on the wall behind Spots and tried to look as indifferent as he could while the polecat kept rubbing him through his pants.

“Stop it.”

“Oh, come on. Don’t-”

“Not now, kitten. I wanna kill you right now.”

“I know.”

Fang braved a look into her eyes. He saw what he feared, fire and arousal, nothing even remotely close to fear. The lancer sighed heavily, this was really not going the way he wanted to. Nothing was going the way he wanted to when Spots was involved.

“Don’t look so smug. I hate you.”

“I know, pup, I know.” she breathed in his ear.

Fang took a deep breath while Spots unbuckled his belt and pulled his pants down. She was about to wrap her hand around his cock - she was very good with her hands, Fang knew by experience -, but the lancer decided that for once _he_ needed to be calling the shots, not the girl. He caught Spots’ wrists and pinned her hands above her head.

“Rule number one: you’re not allowed to touch me.”

The polecat’s eyes narrowed, Fang could see that she was unhappy with him taking over control. But he didn’t care. “You fucking owe me this, _Spotty_.”

Fang felt the polecat’s muscles clench when he said that name. Him calling her Spotty was the reason she cut off his finger. He knew she will be angry about it, he said it on purpose.  
“I’ll cut your remaining fingers off, puppy, if-”

To cut Spots short, the lancer leaned forward and crashed their lips together. He pressed Spots into the wall, pinning her with his body, enjoying the feeling when the polecat arched into him. He cut their bruising kiss short to speak and to pull Spots' shirt over her head, throwing it away.

“Rule number two: you can only call me Fang. Nothing else.”

He let go of Spots’ hands to grab her hips and pull her into him. Spots was about to wrap her arms around his shoulder, but checked herself in time and kept her hands pressed against the wall. Fang smirked into the kiss, feeling more than a little smug. He smoothed a hand against Spots’ ass, then slipped his hand inside her pants to touch her skin. She moaned into his mouth, then groaned, she was clearly frustrated by something.

“What’s the matter, kitten?”

Fang saw how the muscles in her arms flexed under her skin, trying hard to fight the urge to touch him. In normal circumstances she would be scratching his back and chest raw by now. The mornings after Fang usually looked like he had a run in with a hundred hungry crows. It must’ve took her great effort to hold back.

“Shut up, pu- Fang.”

He did shut up, but only to kiss the polecat again. He unbuckled Spots’ belt and let her pants fall to the ground. When he reached between her thighs, he found her wet and ready. Even so, he took his time, slowly rubbing that very sensitive spot of her body which he knew would make her knees go weak and drive her crazy. His movements elicited quiet gasps and moans from Spots. Her searching hands grabbed a part of a pipe fastened to the wall above her head to hold onto. Fang drew out the foreplay as long as he could, until Spots got visibly impatient, trying to wrap one of her legs around him. The lancer stopped her.

“What are you doing? I said no touching.”

“You’re fucking slow, pup- _argh!_ Fang.” came the grunted response.

Fang smirked, he liked this newly found power over the polecat. He was amused by how much she wanted him, and how utterly incapable she was to just admit it. He withdrew his hand, which earned a frustrated groan from Spots.

“You want me to go faster?”

“Just…”

The warboy tried to catch Spots’ gaze, but the polecat was looking everywhere but at him. Fang chuckled, and that finally made her look at him sharply.

“Just what, Spotty?”

He could see how angry she became, but also how aroused she was. Her pupils swallowed her irises whole, making her eyes impossibly dark. She pressed her lips tight together, and Fang could imagine the mental battle she fought right now with herself.

“Say what you want, Spotty.” he teased her, running his hands along her sides, brushing his thumbs against her nipples. She tensed for a moment, then when he pinched the small buds between his fingers she arched into him, whimpering. He slid his hand back on her ass, pressing the polecat into his body again so she would feel his hard cock on her stomach. Spots groaned and finally gave up resisting.

“Just fuck me already!”

Fang didn’t hesitate to comply. He flipped Spots around so she was facing the wall, and thrust into her in a swift motion. Spots let out a strangled moan, and pushed back into Fang’s body. The warboy wrapped a hand around her stomach and the other he slipped back between her thighs. He dictated a fast rhythm, keeping Spots upright, reveling in the feeling as her body clenched around him with every thrust of his hips. It didn’t take long for her to come, and he wasn’t far behind either. They collapsed in a heap by the wall.

Spots was breathing heavily, her hand clasping Fang’s arm that was still wrapped around her stomach. The warboy leaned his back against the wall and pulled the polecat in his lap. She looked half-asleep, watching him from under her heavy eyelids. The marks left by Fang’s fingers on her throat were already turning blue. He reached up and caressed her skin, his fingertips tracing the line of the scar he left on her once. _She’s mine_ , he thought. _Mine alone_.

Spots leaned in to kiss him, pecking at his lower lip, asking him to open his mouth. He liked when she did that. It was one of many little things that served to show that she felt a bit of affection towards him. She could’ve fucked with anyone, but she chose him. The reason why remained a mystery to Fang.

“Kitten…”

“Mmhhh?”

“I hate you.”

Spots smiled lazily and kissed his forehead, whispering something incomprehensible. Then she leaned her head on his shoulder and promptly fell asleep. The cheeky smeg.

 

 

**Author's Note:**

> Special thanks to the amazing Molluscagonewild, again, for providing support and ideas.


End file.
